Life Goes On
by LashknifeTalon
Summary: ShelkeVincent fluff. Because there's not a lot of it out there. Post Dirge of Cerberus. Rated K plus for brief language, brief alcohol and tobacco use, and some violence in the epilogue.
1. Living with Love

-1Cid was about three-quarters of the way through his plate of mashed potatoes and about to ask Vincent if he was going to finish his half-touched plate when Yuffie waltzed into the WRO Headquarters' mess hall. The slight bounce in the young ninja's step as she walked into the room said to Cid that she had something planned. Judging from her gaze and the fact that she was headed straight for Vincent's seat, he guessed that that something was planned for the crimson-cloaked gunman. Cid quickly muttered an excuse, shoved his remaining potatoes into his mouth, grabbed his can of beer, and snuck off. Vincent didn't even seem to notice. Rather, he seemed to be lost in a world entirely contained within his own blood-red eyes.

Cid took a safe position a couple of seats down, hopefully safe from involuntary collateral damage from whatever maniacal plan Yuffie had, and then resumed his attack on the can of beer.

"Heeeey! Vinnie!"

Good. Just in time…maybe Yuffie hadn't noticed Cid and would not bring him into whatever she had in mind. Hopefully. Yuffie's schemes usually either involved "borrowing" everyone's materia or something that resulted in spectacular failure. Or both. Usually both. Either way, Cid didn't really feel like getting involved.

"You mind if I sit here?" Yuffie took the seat immediately to Vincent's right just as he began to snap out of his daze.

"Huh?"

Yuffie apparently took that as a yes, since she planted herself in the seat before Vincent had even finished his short, one-syllable reply.

"Sooo….what's bugging you?" she said, launching immediately into her topic of choice for the day.

"Hmm?"

"What's bugging you? You look kind of…distracted. Distant. Well…more distant than usual, I mean, less distant than if you were asleep, but not by much and…"

At this point Cid decided it would be a good idea to go get more mashed potatoes and avoid being anywhere near Yuffie and her infamous motor mouth. He pitied Vincent, who would have no real choice but to sit and bear through the ranting, but there really wasn't much Cid could do to help. Well, nothing short of throwing a materia across the mess hall in hopes that it would distract Yuffie, but Cid really didn't feel like contributing to the "Restore Wutai Foundation" today. Sorry Vince, but you're on your own.

Vincent actually didn't mind Yuffie's rants that much to be honest. They were part of what made Yuffie Yuffie, and there wasn't really much he could do about them. Thus, he might as well learn to deal with them. They weren't all that difficult to tune out if one tried hard enough, either. Vincent returned to his previous chain of thought after the third or fourth sentence that came tumbling out of the ninja's mouth, pausing every few seconds to make sure Yuffie was still talking or to nod a bit here or there.

Occasionally it wouldn't work and Vincent would actually have to insert a comment here or there, but on the whole it usually allowed him to ignore the girl without seeming to incredibly callous.

This time, it didn't work at all.

"Vince? Are you even listening to me?"

A question…time to nod. Vincent nodded.

"No, you're not listening at all."

Silence. Yuffie groaned. She reached forward and grabbed Vincent by the chin.

"See? This is exactly what I'm talking about. You've been really distracted ever since that Deepground incident and I'd like to know why."

At the mention of Deepground and something that had the slightest potential of being important, Vincent put aside his thoughts to actually pay attention to Yuffie.

"I'm sorry. Deepground? What about them?

"Ohhh! Exactly! You weren't paying any attention. I asked you what you were thinking about!"

"What…I was thinking about…?"

"Yes! Exactly that!"

This gave Vincent some pause. What HAD he been thinking about? It was odd, most of the time his thoughts remained rather clear, straightforward and easy to remember later, in case he needed them. And yet, somehow, the more he thought about his previous chain of thought, the more it eluded him, much like a mouse from a cat. Odd.

Cid came out of the serving line and took a glance at his usual spot, where Vincent joined him for lunch on occasion, when one or both of them wasn't out shooting stuff or flying an airship or something. Vincent never really said anything, he didn't even eat much. Cid sometimes wondered if Vincent really needed to eat at all or if he just ate out of habit. Occasionally Vincent would ask Cid for a report on how, say, Red XIII or Barret was doing, but other than that, he mostly stayed silent. Cid didn't mind. That was Vincent. Tall, handsome…and extremely fucking quiet.

Nope. Yuffie was still there. Oh well. She seemed to have stopped ranting by now. Maybe it would be safe to sit just a few seats down and make sure to always have his mouth full…

"…I don't know what I was thinking about."

"You don't know? You don't know or you don't want to tell me?"

"…Both." Vincent picked up his tray (half-eaten mashed potatoes and all) and got ready to leave.

Then Yuffie said something that nearly made Vincent spill mashed potatoes all over his cloak.

"It's about that Deepground girl, Shelke, isn't it? You were daydreaming about her, right?"

Vincent wanted to deny it…but that rang true with whatever was left of his train of thought. So he just said nothing.

Yuffie managed to catch the very slight twitch Vincent made, however.

"HA! I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! All hail master psychologist Yuffie Kisaragi!"

Yuffie would have then proceeded to perform a short little victory dance, but Vincent began to slink away while she was shouting, so she was forced to chase after him instead.

"WAIT! Vincent!"

This was actually getting interesting. Who'd have thought that Vincent (of all people) would actually have a crush on someone. And that that someone was (of all people) that ten-year-old girl from Deepground? Oh, Cid knew that she was actually nineteen, but…she looked ten years old, so…

In any case, Cid was suddenly more interested than hungry. Cid promised his potatoes he'd be back, then rushed off after the ninja and gunman through the mess hall doors. Quietly as he could of course.

Vincent really didn't have much time to wonder what that loud crashing noise he heard behind him as he left the mess hall was before Yuffie caught up to him. She might be noisy, but Vincent had to hand it to the Princess of Wutai…she was _fast_.

"Wait! Vince! So it's true, then?"

Vincent tried to sidestep the kunoichi into another of the WRO Headquarters many hallways, but in a flash she was there. Damn, she was REALLY fast.

"Have you tried talking to her? Maybe? Huh?"

Vincent ducked under Yuffie's outstretched arms (outstretched in an attempt to block Vincent's progress, most likely) only to find that in the next second, she was right in front of him again. Vincent made a mental note never to make Yuffie mad. Getting away from her could be rather difficult.

"You haven't even breached the subject with her at all? No, no, that won't do at all."

And before Vincent could protest, Yuffie shoved something into his hand.

It was a ticket. Or rather, two tickets.

"I won them in Gold Saucer while on leave last week. I most certainly don't need two tickets to 'Loveless', so I thought to myself, 'Yuffie, who could you magnanimously give gratuitous tickets who really need them?' And the answer I gave myself was 'Yuffie, you need to give those tickets to Vincent, because you just know he's dying inside for an excuse to ask that Shelke girl out.' So that's what I did."

For once in his life, Vincent was completely dumbfounded. If only he'd had these back when…

"And don't you DARE start thinking 'what-if' scenarios about Lucrecy-whatever."

Vincent nearly jumped at this one. It was actually starting to get creepy (even to someone who until recently had a demon sealed within him) how quickly Yuffie had read his mind.

"Moving on is healthy, Vince. Ask the girl out. That's all I have to say."

And then she sauntered off, whistling some Wutai folk song and looking rather pleased with herself, leaving Vincent to stare at the crumpled tickets in his hand.

Two tickets to "Loveless"… Heh. How ironic life was sometimes.


	2. Defragmentation

If Shelke had actually been ten years old, she would probably have had a flower in her hands, carefully, delicately, and nervously plucking petals off of it, chanting that timeless chant which knows no barriers of language or age.

"He loves me…he loves me not…he loves me…"

Shelke really hated how divided her mental state was of late. She'd hoped that by downloading the rest of the Omega reports and by watching Vincent, she'd finally be able to cordon the pesky scientist to a corner of her mind. No such luck. Instead, the woman's presence only got larger, more complete, more coherent…and all the more distracting.

It was rather frustrating. It's not like Shelke wanted to avoid him, it's just that…it became difficult to function properly around him. It's too bad. She'd really like to be friends with him. It would be nice to have a friend for once. That was certainly something she'd never had in Deepground. She never had any time to make friends with anyone. It was one of the things that she hated the most about Deepground. It wasn't that it was dark, hot, and totally miserable. It wasn't the constant training or torturous…engineering of her physical structure. It was the fact that she had to go through all of it alone. The crushing loneliness was the worst.

When she'd had the data fragments from Professor Crescent downloaded into her head, she'd secretly been a bit…happy. It was like having an imaginary friend inside her head (albeit an annoying and irrational one that was missing a lot of pieces). It made the last few weeks of being in Deepground…bearable. When the Omega Report completed Professor Crescent's data (as much as it could anyway), the overflow of emotion and connection to others (relative to Shelke anyway) was…overwhelming.

If only she hadn't had to inherit a specific connection of a specific type to a specific black-haired gunman! It was a distracting thing, a nagging thing, an all around irksome thing…and the worst part of it was that a part (a small part…a really really tiny part) of Shelke really didn't care all that much. That part of her actually managed to enjoy…being in love. There. She admitted it to herself. Well…perhaps this emotion was better described as Shelke's first girlhood crush. Shelke was aware that if this was true (and there was a 95.87 chance that it was), it would be unusual on a large scale…apparently, it was abnormal for someone to have their first crush at the ripe old age of…19 years. Highly unusual. Not that Shelke deluded herself into thinking that she was anything _but_ unusual. After all, no one who had once called herself a Tsviet could even remotely consider calling herself "normal" in their wildest fantasies. Shelke didn't mind the fact that it was odd in the slightest. The infatuation was inconvenient because she came in contact with its object on such a regular basis.

Shelke had been assigned by Reeve to do two things. She would sort out the massive amounts of information that the WRO accumulated about the planet (geology, ecology, etc.), its people (population density, demographic distribution, etc.), and the WRO itself (personnel data, financial data, etc.). This was a pretty simple procedure. Synaptic Net Dive into the central WRO computers and act almost like an upgraded processor, aiding it in the collation of the information that was passed to it. Easy. Her second job consisted of doing intelligence and support for field operatives like Yuffie Kisaragi, Cait Sith (when Reeve was feeling adventurous) and… Vincent Valentine. A lot of the latter, actually. After all, he was one of the WRO's two most reliable agents, the other being Yuffie, whose assignments often dictated that she maintain absolute radio silence for stealth purposes (it was almost disturbing how the ninja could go from being the most incredibly loudmouthed person in the WRO to being a completely silent, invisible shadow in the blink of an eye). On top of that, Shelke would also run into Vincent Valentine in the hallways of the WRO headquarters building from time to time. Those were the worst. When he was on a mission, at least Shelke had something else to think about…to distract her, to focus on. When they were both off-duty… Shelke tried her very hardest to try and stay rational, to keep her relationship with the gunman on a professional level. She also hated herself for hoping, wishing that she would fail one day.


	3. Valentine and Eros

-1Vincent couldn't believe he was actually doing this. The door in front of him was a familiar door. It was a gunmetal gray door, not much unlike the other WRO HQ doors found to the side of the HQ's central control room labeled "Reeve Tuesti--Office" (and in rudely scribbled graffiti beneath it, "Cait Sith too!"). He could definitely believe that he was standing in front of it. Vincent often visited his friend's office for briefings, updates on information, and occasionally, when Reeve wanted some tactical advice from the former Turk. However, this time was different. Vincent took a deep breath, looked around the control center to make sure a certain brown-haired girl was not in her SND chair in the control room's corner, and then knocked on the cold steel of the door.

"Yes? Come in." Came the immediate response from within.

Vincent hit the button next to the door, causing it to slide into the wall to its left, and stepped into the office. The place was a familiarly messy-looking place, belying Reeve's actually well-planned system of organization. The place was also rather well-furnished and decorated with various , another subtle hint at the existence of the "inner Reeve", that is, Cait Sith, the smart-alecky, fast-talking, Scottish accent speaking, robot cat whose personality Vincent had long suspected was what Reeve was actually like underneath the façade of calm, careful politician and businessman that the former Director of City Development had built for himself while working for the Shin-ra corporation. It was understandable that Mr. Tuesti would want to hide his zany side and appear more business-like while holding high positions in Shin-ra Power Company or, later, the World Regenesis Organization, letting it out only when he operated his robotic alter ego, the Jenova War Hero Cait Sith.

It was that side that greeted Vincent, in fact, in the form of a bouncing, star-producing robotic cat doll (number…Vincent was pretty sure this was Number 8) which vaulted out from behind a group of papers on the floor (probably set to automatically sort the papers until Reeve had activated its remote a few seconds ago, one of several interesting functions Cait Sith had that allowed the Commissioner of the WRO to operate without the aid of a secretary) and landed about four feet in front of Vincent, welcoming Vincent with a hearty "Ah! Vinnie lad! How are ye?" in that ridiculous Scotch accent of his (Reeve would have made a decent actor or ventriloquist, really, Vincent thought…he'd yet to catch the businessman either drop the accent or move his lips while speaking as Cait Sith).

Vincent ignored the feline and turned to its operator. One of the things about Reeve that made him such a good leader was the amount of respect he showed everyone else, even those who worked for him. This extended even to Vincent, who no one was really sure if he worked for the WRO officially or not. Even now, despite the fact that he had Cait Sith talking to Vincent, he still looked up from his work (looked like a map of some kind) to make eye contact with Vincent. This suited Vincent just fine.

"Reeve. I need to speak with you."

Apparently Reeve was in a silly mood, for Cait Sith opened his mouth to speak.

"I would prefer to speak with you. Without the cat."

There was a slight pause. "I see." And Reeve was serious again. "What did you need to talk to me about?"

And once again, for the second time this day, Vincent found himself at a loss for words. He'd thought about this for the past five hours since lunch, and STILL he had a hard time bringing himself to talk about it. A part of Vincent's mind (a part that apparently liked making the other parts miserable) wondered if love would forever be Vincent Valentine's bane, forever to cause him grief and confusion. Another part (one that apparently was a lot nicer than the aforementioned part) retorted that if all went well, he'd have a shot at fixing said problem right now.

Vincent swallowed hard (something he didn't usually do) and spoke.

"I need to ask you a question." He stated as calmly as he could manage.

"Yes?"

"...How does one...go about...asking another person on a...date?"

As was to be expected from an off-the-wall question, there was a long silence in which Reeve first appeared surprised, then skeptical, then confused, and finally thoughtful. Out of the corner of Vincent's eye, he saw Cait Sith return to sorting papers as Reeve's attention wandered away from the doll.

"Vincent...you're a grown man. Why would you need to ask..."

"Reeve. Considering how my last relationship turned out, I thought it would be prudent to ask for advice."

It was painful to say, but Vincent thought it had to be said... Reeve briefly winced, furrowing his black eyebrows in sympathy for how difficult it must have been to squeeze out that particular remark. Another silence followed as Vincent tried very hard to push aside painful memories, and as Reeve began to process what was going on.

"Why...are you asking me?" He queried. "Why not someone else...say...Cloud?"

"Reeve, Cloud has probably never been on a date in his life."

"Well...Cid then. He's married, so obviously..."

"Cid...says many things. I prefer not to have to sift through his advice for useful information."

Vincent left out the fact that he'd also seen Cid tailing him and Yuffie when this whole mess started, making it rather awkward to talk to him about it.

"What about Red...Nanaki? He is wise beyond his years."

Vincent didn't even dignify that suggestion with a response. Reeve quickly realized how utterly ridiculous the idea of asking the last known member of an endangered species for romantic advice was, and moved to his next suggestion.

"Well...what about Bar-...Why not one of the girls then?"

"I don't feel comfortable bringing Tifa into this."

Vincent left Reeve to draw his own conclusions on why he'd ruled out Yuffie. Perhaps he would figure it out one day. Vincent honestly didn't care.

Reeve sighed, resigning himself to the task which, apparently did require his assistance.

"I'll say right now that I am not an expert in the field of romance. Is this okay with you?"

Vincent said nothing, but did not leave, so Reeve took that as a yes.

"Before I say anything, I need to ask: Who is the lucky lady?"

Vincent wondered briefly if the Commissioner's poor choice of words still merited a response before speaking.

"...Shelke."

Silence. Reeve had sincerely hoped the answer would be something other than that. He could have said something about anyone he could imagine Vincent falling for... other than _her_. He would even have had some advice concerning what to do if Vincent had been smitten with the princess of Wutai (Cait Sith's input being: "Have fun with that!"). But Shelke?

It was Reeve's turn to be at a loss for words. Any of the other bachelorettes in his knowledge at least behaved like women (or girls in some cases). However, Shelke had a tendency to behave more like a machine or one of the computers she was always using than a person, let alone a normal human female. She was cold, anti-social, and impossible to read. Reeve racked his mind, trying to come up with a solution. ANY solution. After a bit, he decided to fall back on one of the fundamental rules of behavior he'd developed to help himself survive in the unforgiving corporate world of the Shin-ra upper echelons. When in doubt...return to the basics. So what was the most fundamental thing about romance Reeve could think of?

Was it trust? Appearance? Compatibility? Kindness? Something else? And how would this help with Vincent's specific question on how to ask a girl out?

Reeve sighed in his mind. He hated doing this to an old friend like Vincent, but he'd been backed into a hopeless corner. He reluctantly resorted to another of his old Shin-ra survival rules. When all else fails, bullshit until it goes away. He didn't like employing this tactic here, but he'd been left no choice. Reeve thought for a second, prepared his most plausible set of fluffy principles, and began to speak.

Vincent hated when Reeve did that. He understood WHY it was necessary for Reeve to have extensive skills in bullshitting (no politician or executive can live long without said skill), but it still annoyed Vincent when Reeve did it to him. Especially when Vincent actually needed the information Reeve was...filling the holes in, like now. Reeve's technique of information simulation also had a similar result to those developed by other politicians. It resulted in long-winded lectures or speeches full of nothing but fluff. In some ways, it reminded Vincent of Yuffie's long rants about absolutely nothing. After all, their subject matter was in the end, the same. Absolutely nothing.

Both Vincent and Reeve were relieved (and in Reeve's case, a little bit guilty) when Vincent finally managed to escape from the Commissioner's office. Reeve wiped his brow of the sweat that had built up there. There was a reason that there wasn't a Mrs. Tuesti. Reeve really wasn't an expert in romance. Poor Vincent though, he was even worse off in said regard. Reeve really wished he could help him, but... He sighed and returned to planning out the upcoming survey of Mideel's dense rainforests.

Vincent walked down the hall away from the control center, his mind racing. He was seriously beginning to reconsider talking to Cid, or maybe Tifa. He'd really hoped that Reeve could help him, but through the smokescreen of bullcrap that he'd put up, Vincent could clearly see that Reeve had no advice for him. Vincent knew he needed help in this regard. He most certainly did not wish for this relationship, if it began, to have an end as catastrophic as his last one had. Well, Vincent admitted to himself. In reality, he didn't really want the relationship to HAVE an end if it were to start. So he really needed advice. There was no way with his current knowledge that he could make a relationship with someone work. Not without advice. Thus, Vincent swallowed his discomfort and decided he would head to Tifa and Cloud's bar/orphanage in Edge and...

"OOF!"

A grunt, the thump of a body hitting the floor, and the clattering of metal and plastic shattered Vincent's train of thought. In his distracted state, Vincent too lost his amazing Turk-trained balance, and soon teetered over after whoever he'd collided with.

"Oh...I...apologize for colliding with y-..." Came a soft voice from in front of where Vincent sat, still a bit dazed.

Vincent, still a bit distracted, idly checked his bottom to make sure he hadn't hurt it in his fall for half a second before he stopped. That voice had a familiar monotone quality to it.

Vincent looked up and away from his behind towards the voice.

"Shelke...I..."

"Vincent Valentine." Vincent wasn't seeing things. That was definitely Shelke lying prone on the ground no more than three feet away from him. There was only one person Vincent knew who always insisted on tacking his last name onto his first when addressing him. Vincent silently wondered what he'd done that karma had decided to play so many mean tricks on him today. Why oh why did it have to be _her _that he knocked over in the hallway?

"...I'm sorry for knocking you over."

"Your apology is accepted."

Vincent remembered the clattering of metal from when he'd knocked her over and quickly spotted two long rod-like objects connected by a tube lying not too far away from Shelke--her EM sabers. In apology, he got up and retrieved the weapons, handing them to the girl.

"You dropped this."

"Thank you." In return, Shelke looked over behind Vincent, where a cellular phone lay. She retrieved it, both of the two helping the other pick up his or her possessions. "Your phone seems to have fallen from your pocket when you lost your balance."

She handed it to Vincent, who promptly opened it to make sure it had not been damaged by its fall.

"Thank..."

Two small orange pieces of paper, perforated at the edges and about the size of one's thumb, formerly wedged in between the two halves of the phone, fell to the ground as Vincent opened it. Vincent nearly dropped his phone again in shock. Apparently karma wasn't finished with him today.

"What are these?" Shelke asked no one in particular as she bent over to pick them up.

Vincent rapidly discovered that his voice had decided to take a vacation. Words just failed to come out of his mouth. He parted his lips to speak, but nothing but a thin bit of air proceeded forth from them. He just stood dumbly as Shelke began to read aloud from the slips of paper.

"Admit One...Loveless...Event Square Theatre...Vincent Valentine...why are you in possession of two tickets to 'Loveless'? If my assumptions are correct, you only require one for admittance to the theatre."

More air and a tiny, pitiful squeak came from Vincent's mouth.

"Vincent Valentine, I can only assume you are holding this ticket for someone else. May I inquire to as for whom this other ticket is intended?"

Vincent Valentine, veteran of the Jenova War, hero of the Deepground Conflict, experienced former member of Shin-ra's famous Turks, made another valiant attempt at speech. He produced a valiant stammering noise.

"You are deprived of your ability of speech, your pulse seems to be quickening, your breath has become exceedingly shallow. Vincent Valentine, you are nervous. Why? Who is this ticket for?"

Vincent wanted to speak...he really did. But he thought of Lucrecia...how it felt when she'd chosen Hojo over him...did he really want to face rejection again...he couldn't speak...mustn't speak...he...

Lucrecia had regretted her choice later.

"The ticket..."

Shelke cocked her head to listen.

"The ticket...it..."

Shelke looked up at Vincent with her ice-blue eyes, waiting for a complete sentence.

"...you."

"...What?"

"The ticket...it's for you."

Totally taken aback, Shelke silently pointed at her own chest.

Suddenly emboldened after taking the first action, Vincent knelt down so that he was at eye level for the growth-stunted soldier.

"Shelke...I would like you to come see 'Loveless' with me this Friday."

In an entirely irrelevant train of thought, Vincent felt rather proud of himself. He'd actually done it. In a relevant train of thought, Vincent anxiously waited for her reply, heart pounding. Was there any actual hope that a person so subdued in her emotional response would actually return his feelings?

A whole, agonizingly long minute passed before Shelke responded.

"I...would not mind. I have no other plans. I will meet you in this building's lobby after I have finished with my duties here. Do you have plans for transportation to Golden Saucer?"

Vincent nearly fell over. Had she just...? In a daze, Vincent muttered something incoherent (and possibly entirely irrelevant), then receded into a hazy bliss he hadn't experienced since his days as a Turk.

"I see. I will see what I can do about finding us transportation then. I will consider asking Cid Highwind about one of his airships. I will see you then. Now, I have things to attend to in the control room. Please move aside."

Vincent dumbly stepped aside, still in a state not dissimilar to shock. Shelke silently stepped by him and down the hall, around a corner, and out of sight.

For the first time in over thirty years, a huge grin lit up Vincent Valentine's face.


	4. Loveless No More

Shelke waited until she had gone down the hall, around the corner, past the control center, into the women's bathroom, and far out of earshot before she dropped her mask of calm. It took a lot of willpower to do so, but somehow she managed to do it.

When she got to the bathroom, Shelke locked herself into one of the stalls and then allowed herself to make the decision.

Do I squeal with delight or do I scream at myself for acting on a silly impulse?

Eventually, both urges passed and Shelke ended up doing neither.

She did allow herself a smile, though.

Over the course of the rest of the week, Shelke managed to significantly confuse the vast majority of the control room technicians. It wasn't that she wore the slightest of smiles. She'd done that before on occasion, like when a team she was running support for accomplished a particularly dangerous mission, or when she came across a particularly interesting piece of information. It was that she wore it almost ALL of the time. Some reached the conclusion that the young soldier had finally snapped and gone insane. Others decided that she had a sickness of the body, not the mind, and suggested that Commissioner Tuesti give her some sick leave so she could recover. Two or three didn't notice. One of the older veteran technicians, who'd actually been around during the whole Deepground Conflict, including both invasions of the WRO Headquarters, even asked the Commissioner to check the girl's daily mako rations for impurities.

Reeve, however, would just smile at the helpful suggestions of his subordinates and tell them nothing was wrong before sending them back to their duties. Reeve noticed, and knew exactly what the cause of the unusual behavior was. Vincent…you actually pulled it off, didn't you?

Sleeping in a coffin for 30 years taught Vincent a lot of things. One of them was how horribly uncomfortable sleeping in the same position for a long time is. Another was how horribly uncomfortable sleeping in a coffin is. Another was the fact that recurring nightmares really sucked. Most of all though, sleeping in a coffin for 30 years taught Vincent patience. Vincent learned how to wait. And wait. And wait. And wait.

So why was it so hard to sit still on one of the benches in the HQ lobby and just wait for Shelke to show up? He'd managed to lie in a 6' x 3' wooden box doing absolutely nothing except stare at the lid and feel sorry for himself for years on end, and yet he couldn't sit still on a bench and stare at the walls or potted plants for five minutes? Vincent thought it was almost as amusing as it was frustrating.

Perhaps the reason he was fretting so much was out of habit? After all, Vincent hadn't done much BUT fret and anticipate for the past four days. Vincent really didn't have much to do in between the missions that Reeve would give him. File reports on missions, but once that was done (they usually didn't take more than an hour or two), Vincent didn't have a whole lot to do. So he'd fretted about this. Fretted about that. He'd fretted pretty much non-stop in the past week. He wondered if being this excited about something was healthy for him. Vincent sighed and gave in to the urge to check himself over once again.

Let's see…he'd taken a shower…combed his hair…brushed his teeth…cleaned and ironed all his clothes…polished his claw…Vincent was pretty sure that was everything he could do about his appearance. He'd even forgone his trademark crimson cloak, black pants, and shirt in favor of a tuxedo he'd bought for this particular occasion (it wasn't like he was using all that gil Reeve paid him for anything anyways). His one concession to comfort (as opposed to appearance) was the gunbelt and triple-barreled handgun that hung at his right hip. Cerberus never left his side. The one time he'd gone someplace without carrying his gun in the past, he'd ended up getting a bullet forcefully placed into his body, later followed by the DNA of several monsters and a being known as Chaos. Granted, the end result of all that chain of events had led him here (and taught him patience), but he'd rather not go through the experience again (the patience wasn't helping him much right now anyway).

Right. The gun. Vincent pulled a small handkerchief (The man at the clothing store had insisted he buy one along with the tuxedo for reasons Vincent STILL didn't understand…nor did he care to) out of his pocket and began polishing Cerberus. And polishing. And polishing.

Vincent had polished and cleaned all three barrels of the handgun twice by the time Shelke showed up.

Originally, Shelke had planned on just showing up for the date in her Deepground uniform. It was, after all, what she usually wore most places, even after she'd joined the WRO. In fact, until a week after the Deepground Conflict ended, her entire wardrobe had pretty much consisted of several copies of her uniform. This wasn't surprising--it's not like there were a whole lot of clothing stores buried deep below Midgar. Shelke also really didn't see the need to wear anything else. The uniform she was wearing was comfortable, clean, and functional. It was designed to keep her warm in all but the coldest of environments, while not overheating her in warm ones. Indeed, most of the WRO had gotten used to seeing her in it. She really hadn't seen any reason to wear anything else. However, not long after she'd made the decision to wear her uniform, just as she was leaving the control room to join Vincent in the lobby, another one of those annoying nagging feelings hit her. Those annoying little urges that seemed to just pop out the top of her head, almost as if they were her own thoughts. They weren't of course, but even knowing that, it was awfully hard to ignore them. They felt like they were her own thoughts. Besides, Shelke had found that ignoring said urges usually ended up being more trouble than it was worth. They usually were frivolous and slightly inefficient, but were very rarely actually counter to Shelke's own purposes. Ignoring them would result in her feeling miserable and awkward for some time afterward, sometimes to the point of distraction, resulting in a net loss of efficiency that was actually greater than that which would be caused by simply giving in to the impulse. Thus, when Professor Crescent's voice appeared in the back of her head telling her that she should dress up a bit for her date with Vincent, she only resisted the urge for about ten seconds before giving in. Vincent could wait. He HAD spent thirty years in a coffin. That had to teach someone patience. Right?

Shelke's quarters were actually a modified part of the sick bay. It had once been a private examination room, for when patients needed, well, privacy for some reason. However, in a paramilitary organization like the WRO, those situations came up so rarely anyway, that Reeve decided that there was absolutely no reason that both of the said private examination rooms would be needed anyway.

The main reason why Shelke had needed to be assigned a room in the sick bay was simple. Despite no longer being a member of Deepground, she was still the product of their research, and still required a daily dose of mako in order to live. The last time she'd been deprived of mako, she'd not only lost her superhuman speed and reflexes, but she'd also collapsed in the middle of the Deepground HQ. If Vincent hadn't been right by her side when it happened (and also, thankfully, near one of the Deepground medical facilities, which were equipped with mako tanks for that specific reason), she would most likely have perished there. Mako deprivation was much like starving…or perhaps more like suffocation. It was slow, painful, and ultimately a rather pathetic death. Despite having been trained to fight to the death, and to not fear the cessation of one's own life, Shelke still really didn't want to die. And unless she was critically incorrect in her assessment of her new friends' (well, she secretly hoped they were her friends) motives, they didn't want her to die either. And so, Reeve had had one of the sick bay healing tanks, normally filled with a greenish chemical bath charged with Cure magic designed to heal a person immersed in it without drowning them (the exact process had something to do with dissolved oxygen, but Shelke had never really had any interest in learning the exact process anyway), modified to hold quantities of mako instead and moved into private examination room 1, now Shelke's quarters. Where Reeve got the mako for the tank was anyone's guess, perhaps the remnant of the Shin-ra corporation still had a reactor active somewhere? Shelke had never come across records of mako shipments in her work, so she didn't know. It really didn't matter to the girl. As long as she was able to immerse herself in the fluid for an hour each day, she was content.

The tank itself dominated most of the small room. Shelke didn't mind. She didn't need much space. Her other furnishings and possessions consisted of a the examination table turned bed (an examination table with a mattress stacked on top of it), the swiveling stool that came with the room, a computer terminal (which Shelke was currently in the process of rigging a SND helmet attachment to), a trash can, a corner table, and a small wardrobe. It was with the latter that Shelke was concerned with now. She opened the wardrobe's doors and peered inside.

As expected, most of the wardrobe's contents were indeed, Deepground uniforms. There was also a simple pink blouse and a black skirt hanging beside them, but before Shelke even began reaching for them, the voice in her head told her they were far too plain. They were, it reasoned, the closest thing to casual wear she had. She wasn't looking for casual wear. And so, Shelke continued to rummage through her pitifully small collection of clothing, hoping that the bit of Professor Crescent she had absorbed would quickly make a decision and deem one of her outfits worthy of being worn (this, coincidentally, was about the time that Vincent began to clean his gun the first time in order to distract himself).

Eventually, the woman in her head did make a decision, and Shelke, realizing that she was already 18 minutes 34 seconds late, began dressing.

When Shelke finally showed up, Vincent stood up to greet her. He then almost immediately fell back into his seat out of surprise (he caught himself, of course, but he almost did). He had honestly expected the girl to show up in her usual blue and gray Deepground bodysuit. Instead, however, she walked into the lobby wearing a cute sleeveless pink dress that went down just below her knees (almost incongruous seeing the actually 19-year old Shelke, who only looked 10, wearing clothes that were designed for people that were actually 10-years-old). She wore a pair of white dress shoes and socks that wouldn't have looked out of place on a little girl going to church on Sunday, and around her neck was a simple silver necklace (Vincent wasn't sure if it was real or not, nor did he really care). Even with her pair of EM sabers STILL strapped to her waist (they even had a little white bow tied to them), even Vincent had to admit: Shelke looked very cute.

Vincent wasn't even aware that Shelke OWNED this outfit.

There was a long silence while the couple looked each other up and down, each examining the other's outfit. Shelke broke the silence first.

"Vincent Valentine. I realize I was 27 minutes, 38 seconds late. I apologize."

"Understandable."

There wasn't anything else to say, and after a few seconds more of the two staring awkwardly at each other (both pairs of eyes immediately gravitating to the other's hips where a weapon hung), Vincent took a step towards the door and offered Shelke his hand.

Luckily enough for the couple, it turned out (as Shelke discovered from her research over the week into methods of transportation) that every Friday, the Shera would be sent over from WRO HQ to Corel, where Barret hailed from, to pick up a shipment of coal and oil from the one-armed man, trading some of the various foodstuffs in the WRO's possession for the mining town's fossil fuels. Corel also happened to have a gondola train that ran to the nearby city of Golden Saucer. While the official reason for sending the Shera, Cid's personal vessel and the unofficial flagship of the WRO's airship fleet, to Corel was that the Shera had originally been designed with the heroes of the Jenova War, who numbered, in total, nine (even including the late Aeris), and thus had more space devoted to cargo bays and weapons than to passenger space. However, Shelke suspected that the real reason was that Cid really just wanted an excuse to go shoot the breeze and buy drinks with Barret. Either way, it was convenient for the couple, who didn't find it hard at all to convince Cid to let the two of them hitch a ride to Corel and then back the next morning.

Thus, Shelke and Vincent found themselves sitting in the familiar greenish glow of the Shera's sick bay. Shelke had forever staked a claim to the back right corner of that room as "her spot" on the airship when she'd outfitted it with a SND chair and helmet, and no one bothered to dispute that. It was there that she was sitting now. Vincent wasn't so much sitting as leaning on the room's back wall, leaving the chair in front of the clinic's computer terminal vacant in the case that Shelke decided to use it to occupy herself later in the trip. Even with the Shera's state of the art engines, it was still a three-hour flight to Corel from the WRO HQ. Now that he was with Shelke, Vincent's patience kicked back in and he felt that three hours would be nothing. However, he had no real idea how easily bored the ex-Tsviet was, and he didn't want to inconvenience her by depriving her of a possible method of alleviating boredom. However, Shelke simply lay back in the chair, eyes open, leaving both the computer and the SND helmet alone, pointedly avoiding looking at the healing tank in the corner. Vincent couldn't blame her. He still had a hard time looking at the tank where Shelke's late sister Shalua had once lay, completely comatose after her fateful encounter with the Tsviet strongman Azul the Cerulean. The airship took off, creating a soft humming noise that reverberated throughout the ship's interior, and with that white noise in the background, and in the company of the girl he was realizing more and more that he loved, Vincent began to doze.

Shelke managed to sit entirely still for the first hour, carefully processing all the information that had passed through her head that day, something she made a habit of doing after her work each day. However, after that, she soon became bored. To be honest, she felt really awkward wearing a dress which Tifa had insisted would look good on her, and the feeling of wearing a wide skirt was foreign to her. Compounding that, Shelke was starting to experience that peculiar fluttering sensation in her gut that usually manifested when she was around Vincent, accompanied this time by a newer, giddy feeling in her head. She finally had to admit to herself, she was quite honestly already enjoying simply being around Vincent. She also had to admit that despite that, she was really bored. Shelke by this point, had had a credo of maximum efficiency burned into her brain, and lying in a chair, doing nothing, yet not sleeping, rubbed her the wrong way. She had to do something, and the computer terminal across from her really lacked any real interest for her at the moment. So, finally relaxing and allowing herself to act on the emotions she normally suppressed, she allowed her attention to shift to where it wanted to go. Vincent Valentine…she had to agree with Professor Crescent's assessment: he looked really handsome when he was asleep. It seemed to be one of the few times that the troubled soul looked at peace. Perhaps beneath his eyelids, the gunman was engulfed in a nightmare, but on the surface at least, he was at peace. Several of the older woman's memories of Vincent began bubbling to the surface and Shelke began observing them as the Professor's personality data relived them. Immersed in thoughts of the object of her infatuation, Shelke began to think. By the time she caught herself indulging in daydreams, she was enjoying herself enough that she didn't care enough to stop herself.

Vincent woke up just as the airship landed (it was a skill that Turks learned, waking on cue, it helped in rapid deployment), feeling completely rested and actually rather full of energy. He also woke up to find Shelke staring intently at him.

Shelke also roused herself as the airship began landing, reluctantly dragging her mind away from some pleasant (and totally unrealistic, she told herself) daydream about Vincent and a hot air balloon. She also returned to reality to find Vincent staring back at her.

The distant look in Shelke's ice blue eyes faded, and the pair made eye contact. This lasted for a few seconds before they both looked away, embarrassed. If Vincent hadn't been trying very hard to look at and think about the floor tiling, he would have been the very first person to ever catch Shelke blushing. As things ended up, though, she had calmed herself and returned to her normal color by the time Vincent looked back and offered her his hand again.

"Come on. We need to get going or we'll miss the play."

Barret, who had come to the Corel's landing field to meet Cid, watched as a parade of several different sizes and colors of crates came down the Shera's unloading ramp. Then he saw something else (or rather, two something elses) go down the ramp and then pass him by.

"Yo, Cid!"

"Yeah?"

"Isn't that Vincent and that Deepground broad, uh…Shelley or something like that?"

"Yup."

"What are they doing here?"

"They hitched a ride to go see that play 'Loveless'. And it's Shelke, not Shelley."

"…Are they an item now or something?"

"Apparently. Weird ain't it? Guess odd folks like them stick together, huh?"

"I guess so…Heh. Gonna be the world's quietest date with them two."

"Yup."

"Wanna go grab a drink and some cigarettes while we wait for the crates to unload?"

"You know I do!"

Vincent made a mental note to himself to thank Yuffie the next time he saw her. Not only had she given him tickets to a play which was frequently booked out in the world famous Event Square Theatre, but she'd also given him pretty good seats too. They were neither too close, nor too far from the front, gave a good view of the entire stage, and were in a section of the theatre that was rather clean compared to the rest of the area. He and Shelke looked at each other, nodded to each other and sat down. Vincent got a good feeling as he settled into the chair. He got the feeling this would be a good night.

Shelke was also having a good time, at least until right before the play started. Then a couple of people who looked like rich upper-class citizens of some city state showed up and took their seats. "Loveless", being the popular play it was, was often sold out or booked with many many viewers, and as such, it sometimes became difficult to get the seats you wanted. For example, this husband and wife pair had failed to get adjacent seats, and they were very obviously unhappy about it. They made quite a fuss, grumbling and complaining as they walked down the aisle. One, the wife, was a rather large…okay, obese woman, and she had been assigned to the seat two spaces to the right of Vincent. In other words, three spaces to the right of Shelke. Having decided to allow herself to drop her reserve for the duration of the date (that's what it was, and Shelke had decided there was no reason to deceive herself by thinking of it as anything but a date) and enjoy herself, Shelke had purchased a large cup of popcorn for herself (well, Vincent too, if he wanted any), placed it on her lap, and was contentedly munching on the snack while waiting for the play to begin when the woman arrived and took her seat. Of course, in order to do so, she had to get past Shelke and Vincent. Apparently, the soldier and gunman were too far beneath the aristocrat to be deigned to speak to, for the woman unceremoniously began squeezing past Shelke.

For all of Shelke's situational awareness and unnaturally good reflexes, she was still caught by surprise by the large woman's sudden intrusion into her space without so much as an "excuse me." Even in the harsh world of the Deepground soldier, that much courtesy was common. The end result was, of course, 30 gil worth of popcorn covering Shelke's previously clean and for all intents and purposes, brand new dress. The woman did not seem to notice at all. Of course, this was but a minor annoyance, so when Vincent stood up to address the woman, Shelke quickly pulled him aside and told him,

"This woman will not listen to what you have to say. I do not wish for you to start a fight on my account. I will go and clean my clothing now."

Vincent seemed to think for a moment, then sat down.

When Shelke returned from the restroom, the front of her dress now wet but more or less free of popcorn oil, she found that the woman's husband, a tall, lanky man, had been assigned the seat directly in front of her. He had taken his seat while she was in the bathroom. He appeared to be reading the program for the play. Shelke filed this information in the back of her head in case of the remote possibility that it would become useful at some point, and then sat down and resumed waiting for the play to start, minus the popcorn.

Having lost her previous activity (eating the popcorn), Shelke occupied herself for the remaining two minutes before the curtain rose by reading the play's program over Vincent's shoulder (apparently he had obtained one from somewhere while she was in the bathroom). Thus, she failed to notice a very crucial fact about her current position until the play began and she looked up. She was behind a tall man. Heavy exposure to raw mako energy does very odd things to the human body. It could make it grow spines, make it very sick, give it unusual abilities, or it might just kill it. In Shelke's case, one of the side effects of the various Deepground experiments performed on her was, of course, the fact that she had not aged a day beyond ten. Physically, Shelke was no older, or larger than a ten-year old girl. This actually didn't inconvenience Shelke much on a daily basis. However, when placed behind tall objects, small children (or small children-sized people) have trouble seeing. Rather than the opening of "Loveless", Shelke was treated to an excellent view of the back of the nobleman's head. Shelke tapped the man's shoulder.

"Sir? Your head is obstructing my vision."

"Shush, child! I am trying to watch!"

The man then turned back to the show, showing no signs that he had paid any attention to Shelke's comment at all. She tried again.

"Sir, you do not seem to understand. I cannot…"

However, Shelke was interrupted with the even shorter retort of,

"Child! Be quiet!"

Shelke paused for a moment. How badly did she want to see this play? She tried moving her head from side to side. No luck. She tried sitting up as straight as she could. From this, Shelke got a better view of the teaser curtains (the frilly curtains at the top of the stage). Sighing, Shelke tapped the man's shoulder again.

The result this got was an overly irate standing man in the seat in front of her (and several confused comments from the audience immediately surrounding the man).

"You are a truly annoying little brat, do you know that? Sit and be quiet!"

The last of this command was delivered with the man's face placed not more than a few inches from Shelke's face. As the man retracted his torso from Shelke's personal space, she struggled for something to say, but she could not think of anything to say. Much to Shelke and the rest of the audience's dismay, the man had not quite finished his tirade yet. He turned to Vincent next (on the stage, the actors won Shelke's respect by trying their very best to continue acting despite the ruckus occurring before their very eyes). Over the various people telling him to sit down and stop making a scene, the man scolded Vincent.

"You should train your daughter better in manners concerning her elders. You commoners disgust me."

After that, the man finally sat back down and brooded only to himself.

The normally quiet and brooding Vincent looked like he was about to explode. Shelke, again wishing to avoid a confrontation, quickly tugged on his shirt and shook her head. Thankfully, Vincent again thought for a moment and then complied once more. Shelke sighed. This night was not turning out at all like she planned. Despondent, Shelke leaned her head to the right, resting it upon Vincent's golden claw. This elicited a glance from the gunman, but he made no effort to discourage her, soon returning his attention to the story unfolding upon the stage. The claw was cold, hard, and metallic, but to Shelke, it was strangely comfortable. It still wasn't a fluffy pillow or a down mattress, but Shelke still found it better than a good number of the various things Shelke had put her head on top of in her nineteen years of life.

Maybe this night wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Loveless" turned out to be a tragic love story. This became very obvious to Vincent within the first three scenes of the play. Vincent realized he should have probably expected such a thing from the title but… Vincent hated love stories. Despite the fact that at the very moment, he was out on a date with a girl, he still hated love stories. No matter how hard he tried, they always ended up reminding him of his experiences with Lucrecia and Hojo. If they were happy love stories, they made him even more acutely realize how horribly wrong everything had gone in that period of his life. If they were sad love stories, they simply reminded him of…well, how horribly wrong everything had gone in that period of his life. He HAD gone through the effort of going all the way out to Gold Saucer to see this play, so he tried to give it a chance…but by the end of the first act, Vincent had simply given up. He couldn't pay attention no matter how hard he tried. As the actors got ready for the second act, Vincent looked around him, down, up, and then at Shelke.

Shelke was still resting her head on his claw. She was also fast asleep. The thing that Vincent noticed the most, more than the minimal sensation of her head on his claw (he didn't have much feeling in the artificial limb anyway), more than the fact that Shelke was asleep, was the fact that Shelke had fallen asleep on his claw with an angelic smile on her face. Not just a tiny half-smile like she usually used when she smiled at all. A full, normal smile. It wasn't a huge Yuffie grin or anything, but considering whose smile it was it might as well have been.

Vincent had originally planned on seeing if Shelke wanted to leave (seeing as how she was rather obviously not paying any attention to the play), but Shelke looked so incredibly peaceful… Vincent felt an unusual feeling well up in his chest. That Shelke (of all people) had somehow learned to trust someone like him so much that she had fallen asleep atop his claw…

Vincent decided he would let her sleep. It was the least he could do in return for her trust. He'd find a way to bear through the play somehow. After all, the most significant thing sleeping in a coffin taught Vincent was, of course, patience.

For the rest of the evening, Vincent found the love story being told on stage before him slightly less unappealing.


	5. Epilogue: Memories

-1For the third time in a day, Vincent told himself he really needed to teach Shelke the meaning of the word "romantic." He acknowledged that he wasn't the most romantic of people in the world, but sometimes Shelke made him look like a starry-eyed dreamer. For example, hunting mutant abominations in underwater buildings was NOT the way Vincent wanted to spend his anniversary. Now, it would be wrong to say he didn't like Shelke's work ethic or anything, in fact, he was rather proud of his wife's work ethic, but...sometimes...

"Vincent?" came the voice from the radio at his hip. "Please remain focused on your objective."

Vincent sighed. He really didn't want to be here right now. On any other day, he wouldn't have minded, but… True, he had no choice to admit that Shelke was right when she said that no one else was really qualified to do this job… but couldn't this job have waited until tomorrow?

Briefly, Vincent considered the possibility that Shelke had simply forgotten what day it was and had proceeded with the routine. Of course, then he remembered that Shelke never forgot ANYTHING. He knew he should have expected things like this to occur from time to time when he'd married her but…well, he'd also hoped that after three years Shelke would have figured out that certain things did in fact matter to him, even if he didn't show it. After all, he had figured out what sort of things mattered to _her_, and she was even more difficult to read than he.

"Vincent. Please respond. Your target continues to move deeper into the reactor complex. Should you delay any longer, I may lose track of it. Locating a target is…"

"Significantly harder when it is not visible. I know."

Well, the sooner he finished the job, the sooner he could get back to HQ and relax a bit. Maybe if he got back in time for dinner then…

Still, Vincent thought as he continued down the long glass hallway into Shin-ra's old abandoned reactor, Shelke's first three words had warmed his heart a bit. First, he'd finally gotten Shelke to stop calling him by his full name whenever she addressed him. He'd caught her doing it from time to time when they went out and she dropped her guard a bit, and had worked on getting her to just call him "Vincent" ever since. The fact that it had taken until after the they were engaged to get her to stop entirely still amused/frustrated him, but old habits die hard, he supposed. Her second two words, though: "Please respond." It had taken him a while to figure the hidden meaning behind certain things she said. The girl did have emotions, she just very rarely showed them. Thus, reading her came down to nothing but a lot of experience. Eventually, though, he learned how to translate her speech into something a bit more explicit in meaning. In this case, "Please respond" meant something to the effect of "Are you okay? I am worried about you." Little things like that made being married to her worth it.

Of course, if Vincent ever told anyone about what he thought about Shelke's speech and underlying messages in them, they probably wouldn't believe him. Vincent shrugged. He supposed it was most important for him, and not someone else, to know that sort of thing anyway.

"Vincent. You have ceased moving again. Please open the door before you and proceed with the mission."

Right, right. Vincent looked before him and indeed saw a hatch. He approached and turned the wheel on its front side, then pulled it open. Vincent strengthened his resolve to finish this mission. There'd be plenty of time to think about Shelke if he just hurried up and completed his objectives. Again if he could just make it back in time for dinner…

Vincent shook his head to clear it and stepped through the hatch.

Before him was a long hallway. Three doors (other than the one he'd just passed through) led out of it, one directly in front of him, two a bit further down the hall on the left side, and further down the hall and also down a ramp, there was another door on the right. Vincent vaguely remembered where each of the doors led from the last time he'd been down here, during the Jenova War. He wondered which one his target had gone down. Maybe it had gone through the door directly in front of him. That would be nice. If Vincent remembered correctly, the door directly in front of him was a storage closet. It would make his job easier.

"Your target seems to have moved down this hall and deeper into the reactor. Pursue it before it reaches the reactor core."

Vincent proceeded down the hallway (jumping down the ladder). He was thankful for the report on the mutant's location, but Shelke seemed awfully impatient today. Vincent briefly wondered why. Then something popped out of the floor in front of him and distracted him.

Shaped like a fusion between a street sign designed by robotic drill sergeants and a baseball pitching machine for footballs, Vincent recognized this as a rather standard Shin-ra security device. The durability of Shin-ra's security systems never ceased to amaze the gunman. That they were still operational even now… The sign on its back read of course "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. LEAVE IMMEDIATELY." Vincent had no intention of doing so. He drew Cerberus (lasting nine years since he'd obtained it in the Jenova War and still working fine) and put three bullets into what he assumed was a gun barrel. This didn't shut the machine down, of course, and it did immediately begin blaring an alarm and shouting a recorded message about how he should desist and leave the area, but it was no longer a threat.

Then it called for reinforcements. Two more signs from hell rose out of the floor tiling and immediately opened fire. Vincent rolled to the side, dodging the hail of bullets and unloading three more bullets into the nearest of the two gun turrets. This shot neatly hit the ammunition supply of the weapon, and the turret exploded. Then, as the remaining turret swiveled to redirect its stream of fire at Vincent once more, he jumped up, kicking off the wall to land behind himself, on top of the original sign/turret amalgam. Apparently the devices weren't designed to support much weight, as the sign crumpled beneath the force of Vincent's landing. Cerberus barked once more as Vincent squeezed the trigger, destroying the hallway's third (and hopefully final) guardian in an explosion that rivaled its partner's.

As Vincent proceeded through the far door and deeper into the reactor building more and more of the automated signs, and later some of their more heavily armed, less polite cousins (these looked more like giant prosthetic arms and would just as likely slug or grab Vincent as shoot him were he to get close enough), and even some roving robot guards began appearing. Vincent wasted little time fighting these, putting lead into their soft spots as soon as they entered his vision, sometimes even before they finished exiting their hiding spots in the ground. Every so often, he would even run across a security camera someone had thought it prudent to arm with a small gun, and he would shoot it as well. He knew that was how Shelke was monitoring him and his target's process, by hacking into the security cameras, but he was sure she didn't mind. Vincent never thought of himself as extremely knowledgeable about the workings of the female mind, but he figured given the choice between the loss of a security camera she didn't even own in the first place and her husband being put full of bullet holes, Vincent was fairly sure Shelke would choose the former. Whenever he would reach a door, Vincent would reload his gun. He hadn't brought any other weapons but Cerberus, and he really didn't need his only gun empty when he needed to shoot something. Every so often, Vincent would leave the ammo supplies of a guardian intact while disabling the machine and then tear it open and raid it for bullets. Vincent appreciated how well designed his triple-barreled handgun was. Not only did it fire all three bullets simultaneously and accurately for higher power, but was designed so that it could use several different calibers of bullets in order to feed its rather high demand for ammunition more easily.

Reloading his gun was a rather complicated process for Vincent. He had very little fine motor control in his claw, so he was forced to always reload one handed. The process involved snapping the gun downward to push the barrels away from the actual gun mechanisms and then rotating the gun upside down so that the empty magazine would fall out. Then, leaving his index finger inside the finger guard by the trigger to keep from dropping the gun, Vincent would use his middle, ring, and pinky fingers to pull a new clip of bullets from the pouch on his belt and spin the gun backwards, sliding the clip behind the barrel as it passed the fingers which held it. As the gun came right side up again, Vincent would push the handle back towards the barrels with his thumb, stop the gun's spin, and snap the gun backwards, locking the barrels back in place. The process involved a lot of twirling the gun around, and looked a lot like a parlor trick or part of a sideshow performer's act, but for Vincent it was the only way he could rapidly load his gun. He'd actually taught himself to load one-handed in an attempt to impress Lucrecia (it hadn't worked at all), never realizing how important that skill would become later on…

After reloading, Vincent would open the door before him with whatever mechanism it required and proceed onward towards his target.

Vincent's target during this mission was one of Professor Hojo's larger experiments, which he'd apparently stored in the Junon building for the facility director's use for security purposes. Vincent guessed the director was too afraid of the creature itself to deploy it, as the party had never run into it during their invasion of the reactor during the Jenova War. Apparently it had gotten loose sometime in the past week, and some WRO members had been sent to investigate the Junon villagers' complaints of weird noises coming from the old Shin-ra complex and the occasional mauling by an unidentified monster. Vincent had found it earlier and chased it into the reactor before he lost it.

The beast superficially resembled a gigantic human skull covered in flesh with two legs growing of its bottom and two scythe-tipped arms growing from its top. According to the files Shelke had found in Hojo's records on the creature, it was also capable of absorbing raw mako energy and turning it into electrical power. In other words, it spat lightning while near mako. Apparently the creature could also metabolize the stuff and get bigger, if Hojo's speculations were correct. Strangely enough, the mad scientist had never bothered to test that particular ability for reasons that had yet to be discovered.

Thus, it wasn't surprising that Vincent finally found the creature in the one place where it was most likely to go. The mako reactor itself. It must have smelled the stuff after it climbed down the elevator shaft (how it climbed up and down walls Vincent had no clue) and made a beeline for it. It was currently lapping up the various pools of the magical substance that were lying around the machine before moving on to the main course.

Vincent had no intention of letting it do that. The thing had proven hostile before, and it would probably be even more dangerous if it absorbed too much mako. He pointed his gun at it and emptied the clip into the beast. The creature (if Vincent recalled correctly from the briefing, Hojo had dubbed it a "Makorwocky" for reasons only that only he knew) shook its body/head a bit at the fact that it had just felt eighteen bullets enter its side, and then turned to Vincent, in pain, but apparently not fazed at all by the fact that it had been shot. Lightning shot forth from the makorwocky's gaping maw, leaving Vincent little time to get away. Out of the corner of his eye as he nimbly dashed to his right, Vincent saw the tip of his cape grow a new singe mark to accompany the numerous bullet holes there.

"Vincent," buzzed Shelke's voice through the radio, "The makorwocky is equipped with a thick hide that is derived from the same protein as spider's silk. You will not be able to pierce its skin with your bullets."

"Understood."

Vincent had no intention of piercing its skin anyway. After that last attack, Vincent had decided he really needed to deal with the monstrosity's lightning attack before he got hit with a lightning bolt. Vincent quickly reloaded his gun as he thought of a plan of action.

Three more arcs of electricity burst forth from the creature's mouth, forcing Vincent away from his current position and up into the air. He deliberately jumped toward the creature, hoping it would fall into his trap. It did. The monster took a few steps forward and placed itself directly below where Vincent was about to land. Perfect. Vincent with his full clip of six shots (or eighteen bullets) began unloading. Into the creature's mouth.

BLAM! Vincent saw bits of tongue fly out.

BLAM! A uvula vanished into the makorwocky's gullet.

BLAM! Several of the beast's razor sharp teeth followed the uvula downward.

Vincent shifted his gun a little as he neared landing

BLAM! The creature's left claw snapped off.

BLAM! The creature's right claw snapped off.

Vincent finally spread his legs and planted them on the monster's face as he landed and the creature began to writhe in pain. Specifically, Vincent planted his legs inside the monster's eyeballs. The creature shook and twisted, flailing its now harmless arms about as it tried to get Vincent off its face. Vincent had no intention of going anywhere, though. He twisted his torso backwards and shoved his gun up into the makorwocky's single large nostril (or nose-hole or whatever it actually was). He highly doubted the inside of the makorwocky's nasal cavity was armored.

BLAM! Vincent fired the sixth and last shot in his gun straight upward, directly into the creature's brain. It shook a bit, this time Vincent actually getting off its face and stepping back, staggered around a bit (looking not too much unlike a chicken without a head), and then collapsed.

"Mission accomplished." he radioed back to HQ.

Silence. Then, "Vincent…I just found two things. First, the reason why Hojo never tested the creature's growth ability was that at the time he did not possess a container large enough to hold the creature in its new form. Second…I just learned that the creature is capable of regenerating itself in the presence of large amounts of mako."

Illustrating Shelke's point, a loud roar filled the room from behind Vincent. He turned around to find a completely healthy, and far larger makorwocky standing with its back to the mako reactor. It was now about the size of a medium-sized locomotive.

Vincent didn't usually curse, but he felt a strong urge to right then. He reached for his gun belt to get a new clip of bullets. He felt air, leather, and maybe a bit of pocket lint.

Vincent made an exception to his policy of not cursing right then.

The creature roared again and advanced on Vincent, lightning jumping from tooth to tooth in its mouth, ready to fly out at its prey at any time. Fresh out of options, and staring a rather rapid death that probably involved a lot of volts, ohms, and other fun physics words, something in Vincent snapped.

At one time, Vincent really would not have minded dying. Back then, he had always been wracked with guilt for the sins of his past, and felt no real reason why death should be something he feared. It would, after all, be a suitable cessation and penance for his sins.

Five years ago, inside a crowded theatre in Golden Saucer, Vincent had changed his mind. Vincent had something to live for, and he didn't intend to die while that thing lived as well.

Vincent's desire to live drove him to continue fighting, even despite his low odds of survival. It also drove him to grow a foot taller and sprout fur, sharp teeth, several inches of muscle and a tail.

Miles away, on an entirely different continent, inside the Headquarters of the World Regenesis Organization, a girl no taller than four and a half feet sat in a chair and tried very hard not to squeal. For reasons she still didn't quite understand, Shelke had always thought the Galian Beast was exceedingly cute. It didn't make any sense, she knew, since its primary purpose was to tear Vincent's enemies into very small pieces, or alternately to throw fireballs at them and charbroil them, but nonetheless, she still thought it was far cuter than any tiny kitten, fluffy bunny, or playful puppy. She'd considered the possibility that it was only because she knew that the Galian Beast was Vincent inside, but that seemed unlikely, since she didn't find regular, humanoid Vincent "cute." Handsome, yes, cute, no. Eventually, Shelke had reached the slightly depressing conclusion that the reason she found something like the Galian Beast cute was that something about being raised in an environment like Deepground had profoundly perverted her mental definition of what "cute" was. Whatever the reason, though, Shelke always felt a strange urge to squeal with delight whenever she saw Vincent turn into the Beast. She knew that usually meant he was having difficulty in a fight, but she really couldn't help how she felt…

However, regardless of how she felt Shelke did know one thing for certain. Shelke Valentine does NOT squeal.

Shelke Valentine ESPECIALLY does not squeal in public.

And so, much like she had many times in the past, Shelke simply smiled, and returned to what she was doing.

The makorwocky looked at the ball of purplish energy where its prey had stood a second ago and blinked in confusion. When it opened its eyes again, the ball too had disappeared. In its place was a moderately large, furry, vaguely lupine creature. It blinked again.

Its food had disappeared into a ball of light…and then a bigger animal had appeared in its place…when things ran away from the makorwocky, everything else in the area usually ran that way too…unless they were trying to defend something. What defended small animals? The mothers of small animals. So the big purple animal had to be the mother animal. Where there were mothers, there were usually eggs. Eggs were good to eat. So if the makorwocky defeated the mother…it could steal the eggs from its nest and eat them.

Vincent, of course, knew nothing of the makorwocky's thought process. All he knew was that the sooner he made the makorwocky STOP thinking, the less people of Junon that would die, and the sooner he could go home. The fact that the makorwocky was simply staring at him as opposed to shooting lightning bolts at him (was it in shock? Frozen in fear? Was it simply stupid? Usually when Vincent went beast, everything around him either started attacking him or running away) was just another advantage he could use. He barreled toward it like a runaway freight car, slamming into the giant monster's leg about the same time that it concluded that he was a mother animal and that it wanted his eggs (?). The makorwocky reeled backwards, thrown off-balance by the surprise attack. It soon recovered however, and electricity began flying out of its mouth at Vincent. Vincent ignored them. Somehow, when he was a beast, very few things actually seemed to bother him much. Bullets, fire, large blocks of stone…not a whole lot worried a seven-foot-tall purple killing machine. Sure, the lightning hurt, and Vincent was fairly sure his muscles would be rather sore when he transformed back, but Vincent was also fairly sure that his claws would hurt the makorwocky a lot more than the lightning was hurting him now.

Vincent ran forward through the lightning and leapt upwards. Once again, he attached himself to the makorwocky's face, although this time it was with his four sets of claws. The beast's thick hide might have been a match for bullets, but it was no match for three inch long claws and about 400 pounds of muscle. Vincent began tearing chunks out of the makorwocky's face, only stopping to leap out of the way when the creature's own claws came flying down at him. The end result was that the makorwocky ended up clawing itself, causing it to roar in pain. Vincent stepped back as it reeled and took a running start to his next attack, leaping upward and throwing all his supernatural strength and weight into a single strike at the monster's face.

Mako reactors are full of two things. Mako, and lots of electricity. Despite the fact that the makorwocky produced large amounts of electricity, only certain parts of its body were shielded from the adverse effects of electrocution. This, unfortunately for it, did not include certain important things like its heart, its stomach, or its brain. The effects, therefore, of being knocked backwards into the mako reactor's center by Vincent's attack, bringing it in contact with several thousand amperes worth of electricity, were, as would be expected, not conducive to the creature's continued existence.

The people of Junon experienced a short brownout as their source of power was briefly rerouted to the makorwocky's body. The power returned when the makorwocky, now thoroughly fried and crispy, slumped over in death, allowing power flow to return to normal.

Vincent carefully walked over to the corpse, nudged it with his foot (ouch! There must have still been a slight current running through it…), then turned to leave. As an afterthought, he formed a small ball of fire in his claw and threw it at the corpse, just in case. He left the burning corpse behind for whatever crew would follow him into the reactor to clean up after him. He considered transforming back into his normal shape, but then thought better of it. Since transforming into a giant monster didn't reload his guns, he'd better go find a stock of ammunition to deal with any more rogue security devices before transforming back.

His voice several octaves lower (which was saying something, Vincent didn't exactly have the most high-pitched voice in the world), significantly more gruff and a lot harder to understand (his mouth was no longer properly shaped for speech, you see), Vincent reported over the radio,

"Mission accomplished. Where should I go for extraction?"

On the other end of the line, in the WRO Headquarters:

"What in the world did he just say?"

"I have no idea. I think it had something to do with the 'wares' being 'excellent'."

"No…I think he said something about 'accolades for shoes.'"

"None of that makes any sense, you two!"

"Well, yeah, but…let's see you come up with anything better!"

"Umm…well…"

Shelke lifted up her helmet to watch her three fellow technicians argue about Vincent's statement. It was always amusing to watch the three of them argue. Those three technicians had been with the WRO since its formation, and, while they were the best of friends, they also very rarely could agree about anything. Their playful banter was completely without ill intent of course, and that made it fun for both the participants and the observers. She sincerely hoped that one day she would find even more friends that she could be as close to as those three were to each other. For now, though, she was content to focus her attention on a single, very special friend.

"He said he was done with his mission and asked where he should go to be picked up." She curtly informed her colleagues, then lowered the helmet again, leaving the three to shift their argument to about how she could possibly understand Vincent's garbled beast speech. In all reality, Shelke didn't know how she could understand him. It wasn't like she had practice or anything (not even Shelke conversed regularly with Vincent in his beast form, that would be just silly). She just made the best guess about what she thought he said, and it always turned out to be right. In any case, it was more important that he understood her right now anyway, since he had just asked her a question.

"Vincent?"

A growl.

"Your extraction point is in front of the inn in Junon village."

Shelke could feel Reeve and the other control room staff staring at her through her helmet.

"That's not the extraction point…" she could hear several people muttering.

Shelke smiled (still a rare occurrence, though noticeably less so of late) at them and continued speaking. She felt a little guilty, she'd probably get an earful from Reeve later for making one of their helicopter pilots wait at Junon for the three hours Vincent was down in the reactor for no reason, but today was a special day when Shelke thought she had every right to do something ridiculous.

"I have arranged for a chopper to meet you there. It will take you to the next location where you are required."

Vincent immediately dropped out of beast form, and nearly dropped the magazine of bullets he'd just torn out of a security turret out of shock.

"Wait…no one mentioned that this assignment had a second phase."

Shelke's grin grew to proportions that only Reeve and any other staff that had been with the WRO for at least three years had ever seen before. She'd worn it on a day exactly three years ago, and on a day about two months before that.

"That is incorrect. Are you familiar with a place known as Edge of Edge?"

There was a long silence.

"…No…"

"As its name would suggest, it is a restaurant located on the outskirts of Edge. They recently hired a chef who apparently prepares very excellent curry. I thought it would be a good idea to verify this report."

Vincent did drop the clip of bullets this time.

"W-what?"

"I will rendezvous with you there."

Vincent's jaw dropped even wider.

"Wait…you can't possibly intend…I'm still wearing my…"

"Shelke out."

The radio did not indicate that communication had been terminated, but nothing Vincent said got a response from Shelke after that.

After a few seconds, Vincent recovered his composure. He sighed and then made a noise which surprised everyone still listening to the other end of the radio. He laughed. Perhaps he would need to cancel that lesson on the meaning of the word "romantic" after all.

Shelke raised her helmet, stood up, and began walking towards the control center's exit.

"Wait! Shelke!" Reeve's voice called out from behind her.

She stopped. "Yes, commissioner?"

"What are you doing? The mission has not yet concluded, your duties…"

Shelke slipped off her left glove, revealing a very simple gold ring.

"Commissioner, when I put this ring on, I took on some other duties besides those to this organization. Vincent is entirely capable of taking care of himself, and the other operators can guide him out of the reactor just as well as I." She donned her glove and turned around. "Excuse me. I have things I must do in my room before leaving."

Reeve was speechless. What in the world had come over…suddenly he understood.

"I see. Perhaps an exception to the normal regulations can be made today."

"Thank you, Commissioner."

Shelke walked out the door. There was a certain pink dress that Shelke needed to change into. There was also a little blue box with a little silver demon charm inside it that she'd also need to fetch before she headed out. She knew she had to hurry, the helicopter that was going to bring _her _to Edge would arrive in…19 minutes. She should probably run.

Shelke almost laughed as she broke into a brisk jog. She was fairly sure that Vincent had been wondering if she'd forgotten what day it was all those times he'd paused today. She hoped someday he'd learn.

Shelke never forgot ANYTHING.


	6. Author's Notes

-1**Author's Note:**

Yeah…I'm writing an author's note for a fanfic. Bite me. I have several things I'd like to convey to readers, and I didn't really want to break the continuity of the story by putting them at the top of each chapter. Again, bite me. These are just various comments on the story I thought it would be nice to say to readers, so unless you feel like reading them, you can stop reading now. In general, it's all the stuff you'd find at the top of each chapter, all condensed into their own chapter.

Chapter 1:

First, I have to say that there was no particular reason the other characters besides Vincent and Shelke in this chapter were the two most popularly paired with Vincent (Yuffie and Cid). They're mostly in this chapter because Yuffie seemed most likely to play matchmaker with Vincent, and because Cid is a blast to write. I also thought it would be interesting to write the beginning of the story not from Vincent or Shelke's point of view, but rather from an uninterested third party. That ended up being Cid.

And for those who have played Dirge of Cerberus (I sincerely hope that's most of this fic's readers), I know a mess hall is nowhere to be found in the WRO headquarters. I generally strive for accuracy in fan fiction I write, but I also go for realism, and logically, there has to be a place for the people working at the headquarters to eat. I just assume that you never visit it in the game. Besides, the mashed potatoes and beer bit was too much fun to write out…

Chapter 2:

Um…I know the chapter's really short. I also am not surprised if you, the reader, decide that it's the worst of the four chapters (five if you count the epilogue). Why? Because I'd have to agree…

Chapter 3:

In case you didn't know, Eros is the son of Aphrodite in Greek mythology. His Roman equivalent is Cupid. The title make more sense now?

Um…yeah. I tried to alternate between Shelke and Vincent's points of view on a fairly regular basis, in this case by chapter, then in the next chapter pretty much every few paragraphs. I know I ended up using Vincent's POV more, but Shelke's thought process tends to be a lot more wordy, so it balances out, I guess. Well…no, not really, considering the only Shelke-only chapter was the shortest, and that the epilogue was almost entirely from Vincent's POV, but… again, bite me.

Chapter 4:

Originally, this was intended to be two chapters. That's why it's so long. Vincent and Shelke were originally going to walk out of the play halfway through after they both realized they weren't paying attention and take a walk, with a second chapter devoted to the walk. As things turned out of course, Shelke ended up falling asleep, and I realized that it made more sense for Vincent to bear through the play as opposed to waking her up. That and I thought the new ending would be cuter. And I know Shelke almost never smiles. However, I don't think it's OOC for her, because I, at least, believe that she has emotions. It's just that she rarely shows them. It would make sense for them to show from time to time…

Oh yes, I'll say it here. There was absolutely no reason for the interlude of Barret and Cid after the airship sequence of events other than the fact that I'd been doing nothing but cute and romantic for several pages and felt the need for something utterly zany. That and to miss the chance to have characters like Barret and Cid interacting when I'd set it up earlier would make me cry…

Epilogue:

I know, I know…the epilogue rivals the longest (and last) chapter in length. I know epilogues generally tend to be short but…

Hey, combat takes a lot of space, and I had fun writing it…I hope it was fun to read at least. I'd just gotten tired of writing so much cuteness with Vincent, a character who is very clearly a complete bad-ass, and I felt the story needed just a _little _bit more closure than Chapter 4 offered. Thus, the epilogue. Also, I wanted to bring in my theory that Shelke (as well as Vincent) does not age, so… This ended up being reduced to a single sentence (the comment about how Shelke, even five years later, was still only four and a half feet tall). Where did I get five? I assumed that the two of them dated for two years before getting married. Yeah, the numbers were just arbitrarily chosen, yet somewhat believable numbers. Originally the epilogue was going to be set a couple HUNDRED years after the rest of the story, and would possibly have involved the cute puppies that Red XIII has in Advent Children's intro, but I couldn't think of anything for that. THEN I pulled it back to about twenty years after the rest of the story, thinking about it centering around a dinner party in the Nibelheim Mansion, and I wrote that for a while, but the more I wrote, the more I realized that the epilogue would grow into the size of its own fic and become more and more centered around Yuffie antics than Shelke and Vincent fluff, so I scrapped that. If enough people tell me they like the idea anyway I might finish it as its own fic but until then…

So finally, my training as a fight choreographer, and the urge to write something that wasn't entirely romance gave me the brilliant idea to write the current epilogue. And yeah…I assumed that Vincent and Shelke would become _slightly_ less antisocial and cold after a few years. People grow and change after all…maybe you disagree, but that's my view anyway…

Yeah…so that's the author's note. sigh it's STILL longer than chapter 2... Well, whatever. Oh yes, I don't own Final Fantasy VII, Advent Children, or Dirge of Cerberus, Square Enix does. Okay. Now I'm done. I hope you had as much fun reading this yarn as I did writing it. Okay, now I'm REALLY done.


End file.
